The Hero's Life
by Jayde The Rouge
Summary: A little Warren fluff. Warren comes home late one night and checks on his kids. One Shot. Please RR. I promise it's cute.


A/N: Okay... so I did it again. This one hit me when I woke up this morning. It's cute and it's another One Shot. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Sky High belongs to Disney. Don't sue. All you'll get is pocket lint and a few well worn stuffed animals.

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_The Hero's Life_

He silently sneaked the door to his flat open and entered carefully. After slowly closing the front door (all the while praying that it wouldn't give it's normal scream of protest from the un-oiled hinges), he lit one of his hands to give him a little light before going on any further. If it weren't so late, he would turn on the entryway light, but he didn't want to wake anyone.

He slowly tip toed around the toys scattered everywhere and grimaced when he stepped on a singing bear. He froze a listened, but there was no pounding of unsteady feet. He sighed in relief.

After surviving the labyrinth that was his living room, he peeked into the first door on the right, the nursery. A smile lit his weary face as he watched the breathing of his two year old son. Unable to stand it, he sneaked to the crib and gently tucked the blankets around little Michael more firmly knowing that the baby wouldn't wake, but smoothly avoiding making too much noise because of the sensitive baby monitor that sat in the crib with him. He leaned down, bending his own tall form to kiss the baby's forehead and whisper in his ear, "Goodnight, Firefly. Daddy's home."

Ever so silently, he creeped out the door that connected it with his own bedroom. His gorgeous wife of four years lay in the lamp light where she had fallen asleep waiting for him to return. Unlike others in his hero class, he had married a human woman whom he had taken into his confidence in his senior year of Sky High. She still wasn't quite used to the hours that her super hero husband kept, but she good-naturedly kept up with him. He smiled.

Quiet fussing drew his eyes to the bassinet resting a few feet from her side of the bed. He quietly hurried over to his baby girl to keep her from waking her mama. Her toothless smile stared up at him the moment his face was visible to her. At three months, she was still waking up in the night hungry. Normally his wife Amy would take her into the nursery and rock and feed her until she fell asleep again. He had wanted to help, but Amy declared that he needed sleep more than she did because of how dangerous his job was. Reluctantly he let her have her way. Tonight, though, he decided that Amy was going to sleep through the night.

He cooed a little at baby Claire and lifted her from her bed to snuggle her against his chest as he walked back to the nursery, closing the door behind him and turning off Michael's baby monitor the way Amy always did. He pulled a bottle of formula out of the diaper bag and made it up with practiced ease and popped it in the bottle warmer on the shelf where tiny hands couldn't reach it. While he talked and cooed and jiggled his baby girl to keep her quiet while her bottle warmed he smiled. This was the life.

He figured that the bottle was warm by now and took it out of the warmer. Suddenly a realization hit him as he tested the warmth of the formula on his skin. He was horrified. Amy always handed him the bottles to feed the munchkins for a reason. She checked the temperature, because he could never tell when the bottle was too hot. His skin was always warmer than normal.

Now he was in a fine pickle. He didn't want to give her the bottle if it was too hot, but he also knew she didn't take a cold bottle as well as a warm one and would take longer to put to sleep. He didn't know what to do. He finally held the bottle against his side and let it adjust to his body temperature. After all, she was never burned when she gummed on his fingers he reasoned.

He gave her the bottle and grinned the grin that his wife swore she fell in love with as Claire sucked it down. He jiggled her softly as she ate. Delighting in her giggles and the slobbery fist she kept rubbing against his face. He rocked her gently as she finished and sang softly under his breath the lullaby that he used to soothe Michael into his nap during the days he had off from his cover job as a musician, closing his eyes to relax as he did so.

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She woke up and realized that the baby monitor was silent. There were none of the normal baby night noises coming from it. She glanced at the clock and her eyes widened. Three a.m. Claire should have woken her up from her midnight feeding. She glanced at the baby bed. Claire wasn't there. She suddenly realized that neither was Warren and smiled. She tip toed to the nursery door and peeked through the crack.

She smiled. There was the man who struck fear into the hearts of super villains everywhere (and some super heroes). He had dried baby drool on his cheek and spit up on his costume, and he was snoozing peacefully with his tiny daughter cradled in the crook of his arm. She was snuggled against his chest contentedly sleeping.

Amy laughed quietly and walked in to relieve her snoozing hubby of his precious burden. As she lifted the sleeping babe into her arms, he started awake. "Shh. I've got her," she whispered and then gestured with her head for him to follow her into their bed room.

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Warren smiled and heaved himself out of the rocking chair, turning on the baby monitor as he did. He should have known that Amy might sleep late, but would never sleep through the night. He watched from the dividing doorway as his wife settled their second child into her bassinet. When she turned to smile at him he caught his breath. He watched fascinated as her tiny form made her way over to him to place a gentle kiss on his hand as she grasped it and tugged gently. "Come on tough guy. It's bed time."

He grinned. This really was the life of a hero.


End file.
